


Possession (9/10th's of the Law)

by Jadenite



Category: Longmire (TV), Walt Longmire Mysteries - Craig Johnson
Genre: M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadenite/pseuds/Jadenite
Summary: Walt had an itch he wanted scratched and the red neon light of Henry Standing Bear’s establishment was to much to ignore. To bad he had picked the busiest night of the week to decided on what, and who, he wanted in his bed. Or is it?
Relationships: Walt Longmire/Henry Standing Bear
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Possession (9/10th's of the Law)

The _Red Pony_ was in full swing tonight. Walt sequestered himself at the table in the far back. It presented a respectful distance, and buffer, between Walt and the ever-rising noise. It became louder and louder as the drunks became even more inebriated with each passing hour. It was what the sheriff expected of a Friday Night. His _presence_ , however, was not expected. A thing, which he noticed from the brief furrowing of Henry’s brow before it smoothed out once again. He hadn’t planned to be here. But he’d caught sight of the red neon sign flashing in the dark on the drive out of town and it had stopped him cold in his very tracks. It had been a dumb thing to do, leaving the truck idling in the middle of the badly illuminated road but there had been no one around to witness the sheriff’s misstep. His vision awash in pale red light mirrored in the runoff from the winter rain, Walt had paused. The thought of an empty, cold cabin did not appeal at that moment. He recalled the last time he had entreated Henry for his time after hours at the bar and a shudder of arousal sparked under Walt’s skin. Enticed by the barest chance of igniting the itch he’d had burning under his skin for weeks, he’d changed his course. Parking had been a bitch, but he’d managed. 

Henry had spotted him the moment he walked through the door. Walt wanted to attribute that attention to him, he was a tall wide-shouldered man even by Wyoming standards, but the sheriff put his brief bout of vanity from mind, as it was unlikely. Henry was just good at doing that, _seeing_ him among the crowd. 

It had been that way since they were boys growing up together in _Absaroka_. Walt’s chest had expanded, warmth settling over the steady _thud-thud_ of his heart: Cady, Henry, and his job. The three things he loved most in the world.

Henry had studied him for a second before choosing to speak. “You have caught your man then, good.” His friend nodded to himself, and Walt had stood in silence. He felt entirely unnecessary in the unfolding conversation and half-amused with the experience. What point was there to talk when Henry already had everything figured at a glance? 

Walt settled on a shrug, the only answer needed. It was unsettling, at times, being so well known. Henry and Martha had often done this to Walt -- taken one slow glance and just seen the change like a weight lifted from his spirit. And from it divined all the things that truly mattered as though reading the pages of a book.

Henry had flicked his eyes over him, lip ticking up at the corner for the barest moment. “I see that you did not get shot.” 

Walt resisted the urge to cringe, the _‘this time’_ was heavily implied. And, as with most things between Walt and Henry, it did not need to be said. He had leaned into the bar counter instead, tilting his hat farther back on his head. 

“I’m fine, see?” Walt said, nudging Henry's shoulder with his own until his frown eased up, shifting into something more welcoming.

“I suppose you are right.”

“I’m always right,” Walt muttered, only to have Henry begin laughing for real: eyes crinkling at the corner and his teeth showing as he broke into a carefree smile. The kind Walt hadn’t seen enough of in recent years, too much responsibility laid on both of them of late.

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Henry chuckled, slating him a knowing look. Walt cracked a smile of his own, willing to share a laugh at his own expense if it made Henry smile like that. Soon enough laughter turned to chuckles that had faded to nothing but matching grins. 

“Okay, okay. I deserved that,” Walt grumbled under his breath. Still grinning like a fool Henry did not argue the point. “Yes, my friend, you _did_.”

In the quiet moment that followed, Walt felt a return of his earlier desire; the one that had first drawn him to the bar on a cold rainy night. Unspoken heat shone through Walt’s eyes before necessity forced them to shutter closed. It was a bar, not a private back room.

Henry did not lower his gaze an answering desire mirrored back at Walt. “The first drink will be on me tonight, _sheriff_.” Walt snorted, folding his arms across his chest as he fixed Henry with a stern look.

“Is the drink for not getting shot or for closing the case?”

Henry shrugged, still grinning and entirely unmoved by Walt’s sour expression. “Why can it not be for both, _sheriff_?” the other man asked, making a fair point that Walt couldn’t actually argue. Henry lowered his voice further, so they might not be overheard. “Besides, I do not believe good behavior should be ignored.”

The huskiness of his voice said Henry wasn’t talking about something that could be bought at a bar anymore. No, it was an insinuation that promised sweaty bedsheets and naked skin pressed to naked skin. Walt felt his chest, and other parts of his anatomy tighten at the way Henry pronounced the title, _sheriff_. He made it sound dirty, or the kind of _good_ that had his dick at attention in record speed. The way Henry stared back, unblinking but for the upward curl of his mouth, did not help matters either. If they were alone Henry would have kissed him. If they were alone, Walt had a mind to let him do it too. But they were not alone, so Henry did not. Walt cursed that this moment happened in the middle of a crowded bar, and not the privacy of Henry's office.

Walt swallowed as if with a mouth full of cotton. “Well, I won’t argue if you insist.” 

“Good.” Henry’s grin widened, subdued heat shifting to quiet happiness between one breath and the next. 

Walt caught sight of one of the staff, Sam, waving Henry over and his friend's expression settled back to something vaguely harried. 

“It will be busy tonight, I think.” Henry was the picture of solemn regret when he said this, but Walt wasn’t ready to let him slip away so soon.

He paused, taking a breath. “Share a drink with me before you go?” he invited, masking his interest with an absent wave towards the seat opposite. Walt could tell the answer would be _‘no’_ from the brief furrow between Henry’s brow’s coupled with the shadow of regret in his gaze.

Henry glanced over his shoulder at Sam who had a lost and confused look on his face, sweat visible on his tanned brow. “I cannot, Sam’s new and still needs a little help learning the ropes.” Henry clapped the other man on the arm, deftly maneuvering around Walt’s larger frame so he could go see what was going on with the new worker. “Sorry, Walt. It will be just you and _Mark_ tonight,” Henry teased, winking at the sheriff. Walt noticed he also did not make any promises for later and bit back a sigh. Walt hummed, wishing he’d had more time with his friend but still feeling more content than he would have had he gone home. “Well, I won’t keep you then.”

Henry had been right; the bar was bustling with noise and people that night. And that was their last exchange for some time. They didn’t share more than a passing glance through the crowd for the next three hours. Walt, content to sit in his lonely corner and observe the bar, suspected this would not change without intervention. For now, Walt bided his time nursing his tepid _Rainier_. He stared blankly at the page pressed open on the table at the back of the bar; this was the sheriff’s usual seat when given a choice. His back to the wall, and his eyes on the room – when, or _if_ he wanted – helped to settle rattled nerves that had only begun to ease after hunting down a murderer. George Roberts was on his way to _State Prison_ now, where he would stay for the next 4o years, or longer God willing. 

Seating himself in the back _also_ afforded the sheriff space, to nurse his beer without a drunk plastered to each elbow, and to brood with his face cloaked in shadow. It seemed like only yesterday, not years back; Henry had accused him of possessing a fearsome scowl when the mood took hold. The other man had complained that if Walt insisted on sitting in his bar and _brooding_ instead of _drinking_ he ought to do it where his hardened gaze wouldn’t wither lesser men. Henry’s words, not his, Walt recalled half-grinning into his drink. 

Walt decided if that brief exchange were all he would have of Henry tonight it would still be better than a night alone at the cabin. 

A large group of men was loudly cheering in the forefront of the bar huddled around a TV hoisted to the wall, and their voices began clashing and melding together into one uproarious howl, making it impossible to determine who was winning, and who was losing. But, the tiny grin at the corner of Henry’s mouth suggested _his_ team was winning. 

Walt took a swallow from his glass, a silent toast to his friend’s good fortune. He was surprised to catch Henry’s eye when the crowd parted like the Red Sea, before it crashed back down between them, cutting off Walt’s sightline, and with it his remaining hopes for the night's turnout.

The buzzing crowd at the _Red Pony_ was nothing out of the ordinary or more than Henry Standing Bear and his staff could handle, yet Walt had carried hopes for something more intimate when he’d walked through the door of Henry’s establishment. Just sitting and sharing a drink would have been alright, but it was not to be. He’d chosen the wrong night, as he so often did. It was a hope Walt could now see had been in vain. Henry was too preoccupied with management to sit at a back table with _Absaroka’s_ sheriff and drink _Rainer_. And yet the other man was not so run off his feet that he could not linger with two attractive women at the bar. 

Walt took notice, frowning into his drink. Henry was busy being the two things Walt appreciated best in the man: charming and attentive. Walt only regretted that it was attention directed _elsewhere_. 

It should not trouble him so, it really shouldn’t after all these years. Henry flirted, and often. This was not a fact unknown to Walt, who’d named the man friend for over 30 years. That did not mean he had to like it, or sit at the back of a bar fit to bursting with people, and _watch_ as Henry charmed the panties off Cara Hein and Lane Dandre. Walt could admit that some nights he didn’t even notice. But sometimes the not-noticing got to be impossible and instead took to twisting up his insides like a knife in the gut.

This was one of _those_ nights.

Walt had a sharp stone inside. It ground into his heart deeper with each passing minute that Henry would not look at him. Was it by chance or design that he had looked up at that exact moment? Walt didn’t know and he cared little either way. He’d spent the better part of the night missing and wanting that quiet, unspoken thing they shared from time to time. His wanting of it stoked embers into a low burning fire, and his hands itched to _hold_ , to _have_. 

His rational mind did not care that his friend was busy, or that the bar was full to bursting with locals. All the fickle organ tucked behind his ribs knew was it did not care for the smile Henry graced upon the two beautiful women at the bar. They were not worthy; not that Henry would care to hear such words from his lips. Especially since no others had passed between them for some time. _For too long_ , he chastised himself. He abstained, and Henry did not press for more. It was not his way. Henry never did press when it came to what was between them. _What would be would be_. He could hear the familiar refrain echo in his ears as if Henry spoke it, he had heard it so often to know each shift in expression and forced lightness in his friend's voice. He hated it. Yet it was a sometimes-necessary reminder to Walt; even with his rusted-over badge and _.30-.30 Winchester Rifle_ there remained things outside his control. He grimaced, wondering to himself if maybe it was time to give Fate a nudge instead of letting things lie as he had done.

Walt knew the two women and their sort. They were only looking for an exotic notch to adorn their bedpost and a night of fun absent deeper sentiment. Henry Standing Bear meant nothing to the women; he was nothing more than a handsome face and a well-proportioned dick for their bed sports entertainment. 

Jealousy burned hotly, and Walt moved to squash it down. 

Henry was free to do what, and indeed whomever he wanted. They were more than friends, true enough. Yet there were no promises made or words to be broken when one or the other fell into a bed other than theirs for a night or two or _more_. He could have asked for _more_ a long time ago. It was his own damn fault if his heart did not like what his eyes saw because he had not moved his tongue to speak. 

Still, Walt didn’t like it, and the painful twist of his heart agreed with each lingering touch that passed between Henry and the two women at the bar. Walt tortured himself by not looking away, his gaze steady as a fixed point in time on the bar. Henry met his gaze, something of a challenge residing in his own dark-eyes, before looking elsewhere. Walt was given pause by it, leading him to wonder if Henry did in fact know what it did to him, to see him freely engaging with the two women. The churning of his thoughts that grated against his mind, a low buzz that echoed in his ear.

Walt watched the play of light and shadow under harsh fluorescent light and deemed that it did nothing to detract from the handsome, and overly familiar, clean lines of Henry’s face. A face he had known, both tightened with burning anger, blood thrumming hot and spoiling for a fight. 

He also knew the subtle twists, which accompanied becoming entwined in more enjoyable, intimate acts. Unraveling that perfect mask of calm Henry wore was one of Walt’s favorite things to do after all; to tease until Henry was gasping his name like a chant in his ear as he joined their bodies into one. Walt grit his teeth, shaking off his private recollections of nights shared. The middle of the Red Pony wasn’t the place to indulge in that sort of thing.

The women had also decided they liked what it was they saw, which didn’t really surprise Walt. Henry always had more than his share of admiring glances. Walt was many things not all of them good, but he was not blind to the lingering glances that Henry had always drawn. Car and Lane leaned harder into his friend, flicking bedroom eyes at Henry before coyly dropping their gaze to the floor in a mockery of innocence. 

Cara and Lane were not newcomers to the games of conquest. In past days they had been known to lay bets about who could seduce whichever local Tom, Dick, or Jerry into their bed and how swiftly. A thing Henry would be well appraised of too; as it stood there was not much that went on within the confines of Henry’s bar that he did not make it his business to know. Walt leaned back into his chair, finally turning his eyes from the happenings at the front of the bar and back to his half-finished drink and dog-eared copy of _Mark Twain_. 

“Walt, what in the hell crawled up your ass and died?” Omar asked Walt, pulling out a chair opposite him. The renowned hunter set down his whiskey on the table, and his backside in the seat below was quick to follow.

“Nothin,’” Walt grumbled, allowing the battered spine of his book to fall closed. He was done pretending to read the same page, which he had not turned since Cara and Lane walked up to the bar and started smiling those siren’s grins at his best friend. It had become hard to focus at that point over the constricting of his chest and the unfortunate twitch that had developed in his left eye.

Omar grinned, baring teeth at the obvious lie. “I gotta say, nothin’ sure looks like somethin’ on your ugly mug.”

Walt grunted but said nothing and Omar stopped baiting him. “Walter Longmire, the only man I know who comes to a bar to read.”

Omar paused, flicking a conspiring glance over his shoulder towards the bar where the two women were standing drawing in admirers like bees to honey. “Unless you had other pursuits in mind tonight?” Omar asked, smirking.

Walt grimaced, shifting in his seat. He didn’t like the direction of this conversation at all but it seemed Omar was in the mood to talk.

“I don’t do one night stands.”

“Uh-huh, only one-night-stands that go on for 30 some-odd years, am I right?” Omar asked, laughing when he saw the deer-in-oncoming-headlights look on his face. Walt ducked his head, his brain searching for words to say. He came up empty. Walt floundered, mentally grasping for a handhold that was not there. 

He’d never had to verbally deny what he and Henry did together. In that frozen moment it dawned on Walt that’s why no one had ever figured it out. Because denying Henry was something he just couldn't do. 

“I am sorry for the delay Walt, it has been a busy night,” Henry said, sweeping into the conversation with a plate of fries and burger that Walt knew he had not ordered. Henry, his _not-white_ knight in his cooking apron and a cleaners towel hung over his shoulder, settled the food he hadn’t ordered in front of him, his hand absently patting Walt’s shoulder. Walt hadn’t realized they’d migrated to his ears without his knowledge until Henry's light touch set him at ease.

Walt leaned back in his chair. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Henry said, without missing a beat.

Omar played dumb, later Walt had a mind to mock him for it, too. He played the part of oblivious third wheel very well. The other man took in a whiff of the food gracing Walt’s plate and promptly asked Henry for his own order of fries and a burger.

“There will be a short wait,” Henry warned; to which Omar waved him off with a casual shrug as his eyes roved across the attractive ladies who had flocked to the bar from some Friday Night fun, looking to cut loose. 

Omar grinned, his gray eyes twinkling. “I’m in no rush tonight, Henry.”

“Alright then. I will be back shortly,” Henry said, nodding silently to Walt, and leaving as abruptly as he had first arrived.

Omar laughed under his breath. “He watches closer than you think Walter, mostly when you’re not looking.”

Walt, who hadn’t really been paying attention to Omar because he’d been to busy watching Henry's _back_ as he walked away, choked on the half-chewed fry in his mouth and had to wash it down with tepid Rainier. Walt had not thought his discomfort to be so obvious and a red blush began to heat his cheeks, he scratched at his chin, absently flicking a glance towards Henry who was now speaking with a dark-skinned waitress.

“I don’t know- ”

“Save it, Walt.”

Omar snorted, stealing a fry off of his plate. Walt grimaced, swatting the other mans’ hand away from his food before he could try for another.

“I suggest if you have something you want to say that you do it now. Cara and Lane are closing in for the kill,” Omar warned, slating a look at the two women Walt had been eyeing.

Walt shook his head in surprise, a tiny grin lighting up his face as he stood from his chair and strode across the bar clapping Omar on the shoulder when he passed. Walt was truly lucky in his friends, a fact well known to him for many years.

Walt expertly slid between Henry and the two women, blocking off their target with the bulk of his frame. Henry looked genuinely surprised for all of a second before his expression smoothed out once more, like the ripple of a stone tossed across a river, which soon returned to its usual seamless form. Walt leaned close, his lips brushing skin as he whispered too low for the women to overhear. He flicked a pointed glance towards Henry’s office and marched inside and waited. 

Walt was 90% sure that Henry would be soon to follow. It turned out he was correct.

Henry firmly closed the office door behind them, his head tilted to the side as he examined Walt in curiosity. “What is so urgent?” Henry asked, torn between conflicting emotions of annoyance and amusement at the other man’s high-handed actions. For all Henry did not appreciate being ordered about, it was an interesting experience, when delivered by Walter Longmire.

“Nothin’,” Walt said, and lunged forward pressing their mouths together in a heated kiss. Henry paused, holding him back with a flat palm held against his chest to look him in the eye and Walt froze; concern that he had pressed too hard flitting through his head. But then Henry broke into a wide smile and Walt knew everything was all right.

“I like this nothing,” Henry quietly said, before pulling Walt back in, resuming their kiss with hands at the back of his neck hugging him closer until they stumbled onto Henry’s office desk locked in a heated embrace, teeth clacking, and hands gripping bruising tight. Walt’s nose brushed against broad shoulders, inhaling a scene long absent from his bed. Walt placed a chaste kiss to the exposed hollow of Henry’s throat and then began to suck harder. He left off before a bruise could form, nipping at his earlobe instead. Henry disliked obvious marks on work nights.

Henry gasped, tilting his head back in offering. “We should do _nothing_ more often,” he panted when at last their mouths parted for the need of breath in lungs. Walt grinned, nipping the skin between neck and shoulder, enjoying the way Henry groaned into his skin.

“Why don’t we?” Walt grunted, roughly palming Henry through his jeans. Impatient to feel Henry flush against his body, Walt crowded Henry against the wall, bracketing him with his larger frame, a thigh nudged between the other mans’, giving him something to grind against as Walt kissed a hot line from the corner of his ear to his jaw. 

Henry obligingly tilted his jaw up, baring his throat, and Walt accepted the invitation, gently mouthing at the skin. The palm of his hand questing for bare skin Walt tugged at the bottom of Henry’s shirt, pulling it from its tuck. Walt grunted and with a sharp tug sent buttons flying. Walt wanted to feel bare skin and solid muscles under his hands. 

Henry’s blinked up at him, his expression somewhere between amusement and shock. Walt blushed, red heating his face even as a more prominent heat tented the front of his pants, one that demanded attention. In truth, he had surprised himself too. Walt shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“I’ll buy you a new shirt,” Walt promised. 

Henry chuffed, his grip tightening in a handful of Walt’s hair. It stung a little, but not enough that he’d say. He kind of liked it. 

“What has gotten into you?” Henry asked.

Walt smirked, his hands sliding up the solid muscles of Henry’s back as he leaned close to whisper: “Well, I was hoping to --”

Henry, knowing him too well, shut him up with a rough kiss. And Walt did not mind. No. He certainly did not as Henry unbuttoned Walt’s shirt and tossed it to the floor. A strong grip at the back of his neck pulled him closer, as Henry kissed him again, short and sharp with the promise of more. Walt moaned in Henry’s mouth, hips eagerly following Henry’s movement. He had his friend pressed into the wall, his body locking him in place, a thigh between Henry’s legs.

And yet...And yet, it was he who felt helpless. Devoured. As Henry’s talented tongue licked into his mouth with wet, hot kisses until Walt gasped for breath. And still, not wanting to let go of the man he held in his arms. Henry led this dance well, his warm hand sliding into Walt’s pants to stroke him as they kissed. Henry was alternately pulling Walt into hot kisses and laying a stinging line of fire over bare shoulders, only to soothe with his tongue. And Walt followed, arching into his every touch, pressing into each kiss with all his being, hips grinding into the tight fist that was edging him toward hardness. He could not get enough of the other man’s scent and the skin-to-skin contact he had been missing for weeks.

Walt found himself wanting to feel _more_ than Henry’s dick through his jeans, and his half-clothed body pressed flush against his own. Walt just _wanted_...everything the night had to offer. He found himself raising his hands to Henry’s cheeks, running his thumb over-familiar cheekbones, cupping Henry’s jaw in his fingers, all while Henry’s tongue delved into his mouth, kissing him with a passion born of abstinence. It had been to long since he’d had Henry like this, half naked in his arms and flushed with desire.

Henry gasped, clutching at Walt’s solid frame in a way that was rare. “No marks, I have to go back out there soon.”

Walt sighed; releasing the skin his tongue and teeth had been intently worrying. He enjoyed seeing Henry with his mark on his neck, a tangible reminder that it wasn’t all some fever dream.

“Tonight?” Walt hopefully ventured, his hand sliding down to grip Henry’s ass, rocking into his matching hardness with a stifled groan. 

Henry nodded against his shoulder. “Yes, tonight.”

Henry had not paused in giving his answer, and Walt felt his heart swell with all the unspoken things that he allowed to cross his mind only in the darkness of a bedroom and pale moonlight. Before he had much time for thinking Henry was pushing him back against the couch, and settling between the spread of his knees. Henry dropped to his knees in front of Walt, hastily opening Walt’s belt and freeing his dick, already half-hard and aching for touch.

It was a touch easily granted when Henry took him into his mouth. Plying him with all the tricks that he had learned from their long acquaintance Henry had Walt groaning into his arm to stifle the noise, his head thrown back to bang against the soft cushion of the couch. But he never lowered his gaze from Walt, taking him as deep as he could in slow increments.

“Shit.” Jaw clenched, Walt groaned. His hand automatically cupped the back of Henry’s neck, his hips thrusting forward. “Oh - uh, fuck,” he grunted, ears turning pink at the sounds that escaped his mouth.

Henry just hummed, lips sealing around the base of his dick. Henry met his gaze while bobbing with enthusiasm; if his mouth were free he’d be smirking. Hell, he was smirking anyway. Walt felt his blush deepen, biting into his lip to keep too much noise from escaping. 

The walls of Henry’s office were not thick; the last thing he wanted was to make tonight his coming out party or out Henry by association. His dick lagged, shrinking at the thought. 

Henry pulled back, letting him slip from his mouth with a soft _pop_. 

“Walt?” Henry asked, giving voice to a million questions with the tilt of his head and the narrowing of his eyes. Warm lips pressed against Walt’s navel in the shadow of a half-kiss as Henry sat back on his heels.

“Don’t -- don’t stop,” Walt gasped, shaking his head, the heat was still present but no longer clouding his senses. It left him exposed and awkward. “I mean, if you don’t _want_ \--”

“I want,” Henry murmured, his words breathed into Walt’s skin as he set back to task without delay.

Walt chuckled, surprised at his friend’s passion. “Oh, uh, okay --” 

The rest of Walt’s words were cut off, as Henry worked him with his tongue until he was fully hard again. His throat tightened convulsively around Walt as he took the man inside, savoring the weight of him on his tongue. Walt tried to resist the forward snap of his hips, but he couldn’t. Henry’s soft, wet mouth closed over his dick, and it was almost more than he could take, sudden wet-heat shot bolts of pleasure through his body. Henry made a soft grunt but didn’t move to stop the buck of hips, his nose brushed Walt's groin, his hand splayed across Walt’s hip-bone to keep him from thrusting too hard.

Henry was not in the mood for teasing. He took him deeply; his hands kept busy running along Walt’s jean-clad thighs, stopping at his waist and inching up to his ribs where he could touch sex-fevered skin, and feel the _in-out_ of Walt’s erratic breathing.

Walt groaned aloud, knowing he wasn’t going to last long. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Henry, and why would he? Henry on his knees looked like all his best wet dreams; spit slick lips wrapped around his dick, and his eyes glittering like chips of obsidian in the half-light of the office room. 

Walt tapped lightly at Henry’s shoulder, admitting in a harsh whisper: “I’m -- I’m going’ to come.” Walt had expected Henry to stop, to slow; he was mistaken. Henry spread his hand out, holding Walt’s hip in his hand with a grip like iron. Walt grunted and his face twisted in the effort to keep from coming in Henry’s mouth. 

Walt shook his head, stammering with a voice made rough with restrained desire.

“Henry, I want, uh…I want...” he trailed off, his voice fading into nothing.

Henry, well attuned to his wants, let his dick slip free from his mouth for a second time that night with a look like regret, which was soon replaced with curiosity. Walt shivered, the room feeling oddly cold on his exposed flesh.

Walt gently traced the curve of Henry’s mouth with his hand, his mind all but shutting down when Henry’s lips parted, gently sucking the digits into his mouth. Walt’s line of thought fell apart, completely lost to the moment, his breath stuttering in his chest at the sight. 

“What do you _want_?” Henry finally asked, sitting back on his heels, his sharp eyes piercing Walt with their unwavering intensity. 

Walt swallowed, licking his lips around a mouth suddenly gone dry, and in possession of a head made empty of all thought. His thoughts were clouded with heat; it was impossible to form thoughts over the maddening pound of his heart, and the rush of southerly blood.

Henry gave Walt a moment to respond and when he did not he removed the rest of his clothes, unlaced shoes were toed off his feet and he stripped off his jeans and boxers. Stripped down to bare skin Henry knelt between the spread of his knees looking as bold and beautiful to Walt now as he had been the first time they tumbled into bed together.

“Do you want to come _inside_ me, Walt?” Henry asked.

Walt tipped his head forward in a sharp nod exhaling in relief that Henry had known. His words were tangling in the back of his throat. He found himself with an eager lapful of Henry, his hardness rubbing against Henry’s ass as the other man straddled his middle. He regretted not taking his pants off all the way but not enough to do it now. A container of slick was procured from somewhere and Walt was much too distracted to care. Walt slicked his fingers and opened Henry up with his fingers, _one, two, and three_ , careful and attentive even with his dick throbbing for more than friction. Walt struggled to keep his focus on Henry, mindful that his partners’ sounds and reactions were of pleasure and held no pain. Henry’s cheeks were dusted in red splotches of desire and his eyes fluttered, lashes closing in an inky fan as his breath hitched.

“Good?” Walt asked, pressing a kiss to his heaving chest. Henry nodded, rocking into his touch with a small bitten-back whine. “How’s that?" Walt asked with a tiny grin, sliding his index and pointer-finger inside as deeply as he could.

“Enough, I want you _inside_ me,” Henry demanded, rising up and slowly lowering himself onto Walt's hardness, a soft pleased sound escaping his half-parted lips. Grasping at Henry’s waist, Walt started thrusting up into him, slow at first but quickly picking up pace. Soon the smack of flesh on flesh and stifled groans were the only sounds in the room. 

Groans that become louder when Walt rolled Henry’s nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping, pleased with the sounds that fell from Henry, soft whines that he swallowed down with a bruising kiss. A half-cry when Walt shifted his angle, Henry’s entire body spasming, his ass clenching down on Walt hardness like a vice. Henry dragged blunt-nails into Walt’s back as the other man thrust into the spot that made pleasure jolt through his body. Walt wrapped his arms around Henry, keeping him balanced, as his hips snapped up twice more his own completion catching up with him. 

Walt thrust as deep as he could go, holding Henry bruising tight as he came, nose buried in the crook of the other mans’ neck, inhaling sage and cinnamon and something else, something uniquely Henry. 

“So, do you wish to tell me what brought this on _now_?” Henry asked, inhaling sharply when Walt fisted the hardness pressed into his hip. Walt chuckled, framing Henry’s face in his hands, brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

“Nope, after.”

“After,” Henry breathed, his eyes falling closed as Walt took him in hand. Henry bucked into Walt’s hand, his mouth falling open as he chased the sensation of touch. Walt took advantage, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the other mans’ lips, relishing the sounds Henry was making, small whines, and erratic breaths as he lost control.

“Easy, I’ll get you there," Walt promised while pulling Henry impossibly close, stroking his dick in sure strokes, exactly how he liked it. 

_Cara and Lane_ didn’t know how to twist their wrist just so. _Cara and Lane_ didn’t know how to tease, thumbing the tip of Henry’s dick with a rough caress that had Henry clutching at him, desperate to come. _Cara and Lane_ didn’t know how to get Henry off with rough touches, and a growled command.

“Come for me.”

Henry bucked into Walt’s grip, his back arching as he shuddered his way through orgasm. Still breathing hard from their excursions Henry shifted his weight and grinned, letting Walt feel the tight clench of his body around his softening dick before letting him slip out.

Henry took hold of Walt’s chin with a strong but gentle grip so that he might look him in the eye. “There is an old saying, Walter. Possession is 9/10th’s of the law.” Henry did not give Walt time to response, pressing their mouths together again, this time with something of a promise implied in the way he surrendered to Walt. This time, when they broke apart, Henry reached forward, laying his palm flat against Walt’s chest so that he could feel the beating of his heart as their breathing slowed in tandem. Walt extended his own hand, laying it over Henry’s. A small grin broke across his face: message received and understood. 

Walt searched Henry’s face, whatever it was he sought, he found. “It seems I forget about, uh, that.”

Henry carded his hand through Walt’s unruly hair, fixing what he had set awry in the first place. Walt groaned, leaning into the touch as blunt nails gently scraping his scalp. 

“It was only a momentary lapse I hope,” Henry remarked, getting to his feet and beginning to gather his clothes, which had been discarded all across the office floor. It was not a question that required an answer.

Henry really did have to go back to work; he tried to make himself look like he hadn’t just had very nice sex but feared he was only half successful. He would have to rely on his unruffled demeanor and the crowd being too distracted by alcohol to take much notice of him and Walt. 

Henry glanced over his shoulder and suppressed a grin. Walt had blushed an adorable shade of red that lit up his cheeks and had spread to the tips of his ears. Just from watching him collect his scattered clothes, something Walt had had a hand in doing in the first place. Walt had seen him naked many times before. That the sight of his body still made Walt’s breathing quicken and his cheeks redden was high flattery indeed.

Henry discarded the shirt in his hands in the trash bin beside his desk. It was a lost cause, missing half the buttons. He pulled a spare from the small desk half-hidden by the couch. This shirt was not the first casualty between him and Walt, and he saw no reason why it should be the last. Feeling the warmth of Walt’s steady gaze on his back Henry shot him a glance over his shoulder.

“Do you like what you see?” Henry teased, not expecting a reply as he shook out his clothes before pulling them back on. 

The last thing he needed was a dirt stain on his _knees_. He had never been asked point-blank if he had blown _Absaroka’s_ local legend and sheriff, Walter Longmire. And so Henry had never had to lie. He wished to keep it so.

Walt had remained very quiet until then, but he was thinking so loudly Henry turned to see what was on his mind, almost able to hear the buzzing of his thoughts. For such a quiet man, he had a loud presence. Walt was full of surprises tonight, and it seemed that he was not done surprising. 

The other man ducked his head, grinning shyly as he finally voiced his answer, eyes following Henry's every move as he redressed. “Yeah, I do.”

Such a simple response and yet Henry felt his own face heating like a schoolboy at Walt’s blunt sincerity. Flattery was not necessary, but Henry would not deny it was pleasant to hear from Walter.

Feeling generous Henry knelt down and did up Walt’s jeans with a teasing smile, pleased with the state he’d left the other man in. He looked dazed, and very, very relaxed. Henry decided it was a good look on Walt who was sprawled across the couch, appearing to be thoroughly content with the world at large.

“Now, there is only one thing to decide.”

Walt roused himself enough to ask, “What’s that?” his steel-blue eyes narrowing. He’d forgotten an earlier train of thought and it was not quick to present itself, its absence itching at his brain.

Henry’s smirk didn’t help any, either. Eventually, though, he helped Walt rediscover their earlier conversation. 

“Tonight? Will we retire upstairs at mine and my bed, which you will spend the better half the night complaining about --”

“I wouldn’t say-”

“No?” Henry asked, arching an eyebrow in doubt. 

Walt leaned back into the couch, looking at the ceiling and _not_ at Henry’s face which screamed _‘liar’_ with the lift of his brows and the thin pursing of his mouth. 

“Tonight, at _mine_ ,” Walt blurted out; cutting short an argument that could go half the night. There were more pleasurable things he’d rather spend half the night doing than arguing with Henry about his damn squeaking bed. 

“Okay,” Henry agreed, his hand on the door.

Walt smiled, big and toothy. “Okay.”

“ _Good night_ , Walter. Let yourself out when you are ready,” Henry drawled, and then Walt was alone in Henry’s office, sprawled across his oddly comfortable couch. Walt collected his scattered clothes, and only when he was resettled back into his regular Joe persona, one that hopefully _didn’t_ announce to the world that he'd just had really good sex with his best friend. Walt stuffed his hat back on his head and went back into the noise and clamor of the _Red Pony_ at full swing on a Friday Night.

“Ladies,” Walt said, tipping his hat to the two beautiful women at the bar. He was content in the knowledge that Cara and Lane would have to choose another man for their night’s conquests.

“Sheriff!” both women chimed, with matching smiles, a spark of interest burning in their sultry eyes. Walt allowed himself a small contented grin and brushed past them and out into the blustery night. Cara and Lane could flirt with Henry until the cows came home, and he wasn’t in the least bit concerned. 

They could have any Tom, Dick, or Jerry they desired -- but not his friend. Henry Standing Bear would be in _his_ bed tonight.

Walt paused on the sidewalk, leaning against his truck and stared up at the dark night sky shot through with iridescent stars, and felt more at peace than he had for several weeks. Walt shook off his smug grin, shared only with the stars and God, and pointed the _Bronco_ towards home.

For tonight at least, he would not be alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are welcome.


End file.
